


idle worship

by cherryconke



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Body Worship, Dadbod Sylvain, Established Relationship, M/M, Thickvain, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24049159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryconke/pseuds/cherryconke
Summary: Prompt: After the war, Sylvain trains less—he never liked it much, anyway. Less exercise and an aging metabolism adds up, to Sylvain's begrudging acceptance and his partner's deep delight.—Fill for FE3H kinkmeme.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 14
Kudos: 284
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	idle worship

**Author's Note:**

> just some good, enthusiastic felix loving on sylvain for a [fe3h kinkmeme prompt:](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/476.html?thread=5852#cmt5852)
>
>> After the war, Sylvain trains less—he never liked it much, anyway. Less exercise and an aging metabolism adds up, to Sylvain's begrudging acceptance and his partner's deep delight. Not looking for massive crazy WG or humiliation (though, chase your bliss)—just any partner thoroughly appreciating thicker, older, dad-bod-ier Sylvain.
>> 
>> \+ Bonus points for Sylvain with some-to-lots of body hair.  
> \+ Any ship will do, but I'm fondest of Sylvain with Felix, Dimitri, Mercie, Bernie, or Dedue!  
> \+ Some light well-intentioned but awkward teasing from his shredded friends for letting himself go is a plus!
> 
> (sorry op, i didn't manage to fit the last + in, but i hope you enjoy regardless!) 

“I think I’m going to start training again.”

Felix perks up from the treaties he’s attempting to read at the sound of Sylvan’s voice floating through their bedroom. His eyes have been sliding back and forth across the same line of Dimitri’s fluid cursive for the past ten minutes, unable to get much further than the second paragraph without completely losing interest. Nobody told him being the King’s advisor would be so  _ boring. _

But, he thinks, it’s probably good that things have mostly settled down in the past few years. The work of fixing up a war-ravaged continent was grueling labor, consisting of late nights and early mornings and a surprising amount of being on the road, visiting each region alongside Dimitri and his retinue. Now, he spends half his time at the capital, the other half overseeing the recently merged Fraldarius-Gautier territories. 

Sylvain seems content, too, to travel back and forth with him, tending to matters of their territory during the day, always welcoming Felix to bed with a wide smile and open arms at night. After his extensive work in Sreng seeing to border disputes, it only seemed fair to Felix that he’d be able to relax a little and live the laidback life he’s so suited to. 

“Why?” Felix frowns, looking up to see Sylvain leaning his hip against the dresser. A collarless white shirt hangs unbuttoned off his frame, exposing his tanned chest and the light ginger hair that dusts up his stomach and across both of his pecs. The sight alone stirs something in the pit of Felix’s stomach, something he’s learned over the years to recognize as want _ –  _ he loves Sylvain, he’s always loved Sylvain, since before he even really knew what it meant, but there’s something about the broad shape of his body, softened in age, that makes Felix  _ hungry.  _

Sylvain sighs, turning towards the ornate, full-length mirror, gilded in gold and dripping decadence. Felix watches as his hands come up to frame his stomach, pinching at the skin there. “Because I’m  _ clearly  _ out of shape.” 

Felix hums at this, slipping out of the armchair he’d been curled up in to crowd Sylvain’s space, looping both arms around the thickness of his waist. He presses his forehead to the dip between Sylvain’s shoulder blades, tugging his fingers away from his stomach to lace with his, splayed out over the soft curves of his hips. 

“So?” Felix asks, pressing a kiss to the cotton of his shirt. It smells like Sylvain, orange-spice and pine. It reminds Felix of home, of lazy afternoons spent lounging against each other and heated nights licking the beads of sweat that drip down Sylvain’s neck and collarbone as he fucks deep into him. Felix’s dick twitches in interest against the back of Sylvain’s thigh. “You hate training.”

Sylvain sags slightly beneath the weight of Felix’s body draped against his.  _ “Yeah,  _ but I need to stay hot for my husband.” 

Felix can’t help but snort at this. Sylvain half turns, looping one arm around to tug Felix into his side. He goes easily, pressing another kiss to the broad, bare expanse of his chest, right above a soft, peach-pink nipple. Sylvain frowns.

“What?” 

Felix’s eyeroll is inevitable, even though Sylvain can’t see it, looking down at the top of his head. “Has it ever occured to you that I  _ like  _ you like this?”

When he glances up, Sylvain’s still frowning. “It’s rude to joke about that, Fe.”

It’s always been hard for Sylvain to accept the fact that anybody in the world could love him, much less Felix, stubbornly writing affection off as  _ it’s only because of my Crest  _ or  _ it’s because I’m just so charming, isn’t it?  _

Felix knows this. It’s a good thing he’s stubborn, too. 

“I’m not joking.”

Sylvain’s frown melts into disbelief when he pulls away to search Felix’s face for the hint of a lie. Felix stares back coolly. When he doesn’t find any of Felix’s usual gives – the twitch of his upper lip, the way he tends to look away – he breaks into a weak smile. “Really?”

Now it’s Felix’s turn to frown. He huffs, gathering Sylvain’s hands in his own. “Really. C’mere.”

Felix drags him over to their bed, pushing Sylvain down to sit on the edge of it. He stands above him between his legs, only having to bend the slightest bit to lean in for a gentle kiss. Sylvain’s hands come up to settle around his waist when Felix deepens it, pressing his tongue into the wet heat of his mouth.

When they pull away, Felix decides to start with something easy, slipping his hands beneath the edges of his shirt, helping tug it the rest of the way off, letting it pool around Sylvain’s waist. He leans down to ghost his lips across Sylvain’s neck, right below his ear.

“I love your shoulders,” he murmurs, voice dipping to that rough, low tenor he’s learned is a surefire way to reduce Sylvain to a shivering mess. Sure enough, Sylvain twitches against him, hands clenching, then relaxing, into the fabric of Felix’s shirt. Felix skates his fingers across the span of them, made broad and sturdy with age and time. He traces the scars left there by various weapons and violent bursts of magic over the years, leaning down to kiss over a particularly nasty one that stretches across Sylvain’s collarbone and up around the back of his neck.

“And your arms, too.” Felix continues down, squeezing lightly at a thick, hairy bicep. It’s softer, lacking the defined lines earned from throwing lances and wearing heavy armor, but there’s still muscle there beneath the layer of soft chub. Felix can barely get his hand around half of it. 

“I like waking up in them. It makes me feel safe,” he confesses, made bold by Sylvain’s own insecurity and the familiar ease that comes from being together for years, from knowing each other their entire lives. “Love when you hold me, when I’m surrounded by you.”

Sylvain pulls back a fraction to tilt his head up at him, embarrassed. “Fe–”

“What, am I not allowed to appreciate my  _ husband?”  _ Felix teases back, drawing it out slow, knowing exactly how Sylvain gets instantly hard at the word. 

Felix pushes lightly at his shoulders and Sylvain falls back against the bed, going down easily despite his protests. His hands grip tighter around Felix’s waist as he kneels to straddle him, legs spread wide across the soft span of Sylvain’s belly. The little bit of friction against Felix’s half-hard cock is already delicious, so he rolls his hips down, questing for more.

“You already know how much I love these,” Felix continues, punctuating his sentence with a flurry of close-mouthed kisses down the shape of Sylvain’s throat, bringing his palms up to spread across Sylvain’s tits, getting greedy handfuls before thumbing over each nipple. He doesn’t miss the way Sylvain tips his head back and goes quiet save for his shallow breaths, shifting his weight beneath Felix’s hips. 

“Love to fuck you here, too,” he remarks casually, and based off Sylvain’s quiet sob from above, Felix already knows he’s thinking about all the times Felix has slipped his cock between the soft muscle of his pecs, slick with oil, grinding the head up against Sylvain’s chin until his face is covered in thick, wet ropes of come.

Felix continues down, past the soft dip of Sylvain’s chest, only pausing to suck brief kisses around each of his nipples, quickly teething them into rosy peaks. Sylvain whines when he pops off to breathe, “I love how sensitive you are here,” over a wet, hard nub before moving on. 

“And this might be my favorite.” 

Felix shifts lower, grinding his cock against Sylvain’s thigh so he can smear his lips down the soft expanse of his stomach. His fingers flit beneath the waistband of his pants, sliding a thumb across where his hair gets coarser. Felix pauses here, to pepper kisses all over the expanse of where Sylvain had pinched earlier, hoping that affection might wash away the doubt and anxiety. Sylvain sighs, relaxing into his touch as Felix outlines the softened curves of his hips with one hand, slowly teasing the base of his cock with the other.

“P-please,” Sylvain whispers. He sounds halfway wrecked already. Felix pulls back to methodically undress him – first his pants, then his socks, then his smalls – until he’s laid bare against the bed, looking completely overwhelmed. Felix is still completely dressed, but that doesn’t matter, not when tonight is all about Sylvain. “Please, Fe–”

“Just a little more.” Felix waits for Sylvain’s nod to continue, kneeling on the ground between his legs. Sylvain sits up halfway, tangling a hand through Felix’s hair, watching through tear-starred lashes as Felix places soft kisses up and down each thigh, ignoring his cock smearing precome across his belly.

“Love your thighs. Love how they feel when you fuck me,” Felix murmurs, wrapping the span of his hands around each one, anchoring himself there to suck a kiss into the crease of his hip. Sylvain’s always been blessed with great legs – partly from good genetics, mostly from spending his entire life riding horses – but Felix thinks they’ve really never looked better than they do now, thick corded muscle barely outlined under a layer of softness. They look like hours spent lazing about, reading and painting and napping, rather than preparing for war. They feel like love, like nights of Felix lazily riding him, strong enough to hold him up against the wall or fuck him halfway across his desk. 

Sylvain chokes out a little laugh above him, which spurs Felix on to finally,  _ finally _ wrap a hand around his cock.

“You’ve always been big here,” Felix murmurs, kissing the tip, letting it rest heavy against his parted lips. There’s something that feels so good, so  _ right  _ about showering Sylvain in praise, this fulfilling bloom of heat in his gut when he can reduce him to sobs and whimpers with simple words and careful touches. That, combined with the sight of Sylvain splayed out on the bed, downy ginger fuzz covering the broad curves of his chest and arms, makes Felix feel like he’s going crazy. “Love when you fill me up and fuck me stupid.”

He mouths at the head of Sylvain’s cock, stroking lightly up and down, pausing to smear his thumb through the wet trail of precome he’s dripped across his soft belly. The way Sylvain’s being so good, just letting the praise wash over him, makes Felix’s dick  _ leak.  _ “You feel so g-good. Want you inside me, all the time, every day, filling me up with your–”

“Felix,  _ Felix–” _

“Would you like that? Wanna fuck me up against the wall until I’m crying? Let me fuck your tits, your thighs–”

_ Goddess,  _ where the fuck is all this even coming from? Years of marriage have given Felix plenty of practice when it comes to dirty talk, but  _ this _ is unexpected. Felix is a little shocked at the filth flowing from his mouth, but the way it makes Sylvain sob his name is otherworldly. 

_ “Felix,”  _ Sylvain thrashes beneath him, teary eyed, fisting his hands through Felix’s hair.  _ “Please.” _

Felix lowers his mouth to swallow Sylvain down, momentarily gagging but pushing past it to continue until his mouth is stuffed full, lips stretched wide as the head of Sylvain’s cock leaks down his throat. It only takes a couple swirls of his tongue up and around until Sylvain’s thrusting frantically into the heat of his mouth, tugging Felix’s head down to the root. He comes with a long, low keen, twitching against the sheets. 

“Felix, shit, fuck, Goddess,  _ Felix,”  _ he babbles, pulling Felix off his cock with a wet pop, sweaty fingertips sliding against his jaw to bring him up for a messy kiss. Felix drapes himself over the wide span of Sylvain’s chest easily, surrounded by thick, freckled arms holding him close. When they break their kiss, Sylvain’s still murmuring fucked-out nonsense, squeezing Felix against him. 

“Fuck, you’re amazing, you’re incredible, I’m never working out again–”

Felix can’t help but laugh at the reverence in Sylvain’s voice. He presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, smiling wryly. “Do you believe me now? That I love you like this?  _ Especially  _ like this?”

Sylvain nods, using his considerable bulk and strength to flip Felix over on the bed so  _ he’s  _ the one sprawled out, sheltered beneath the width of his body. Sylvain’s weight pressing down against him is a comfortable, familiar thing, surrounded on all sides by his chest, his arms, his thighs. Felix sighs, settling into the pressure, grinding his hips up against him. 

“Good,” he murmurs into Sylvain’s neck, sucking a bruise there. Sylvain smiles down at him, affection edged with a thread of mischievous mirth as his broad palms begin to flick open the buttons on Felix’s shirt, nuzzling his nose into his chest. Sylvain’s chest hair tickles softly against his bare skin, making him squirm against the sheets. 

Sylvain’s voice is husky when he whispers into Felix’s neck, sending rolling shivers down his spine with the intensity of his tone.

“Now it’s my turn, kitten.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/cherryconke)


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